Inability to Act
by GhostOfBambi
Summary: For anyone who ever wishes that they'd done something differently. For everyone who wishes that they'd said it when they had the chance. For the person who took a giant risk. For the people who were too afraid to.
1. James

**Author's Note: This fic has been rewritten as of August 2011 - nothing major at all and no changes in plot, but I disliked the prose and some of the dialogue when I read over it recently and thought I'd freshen it up a little. I hope you all still enjoy it.  
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**James**

Lily Evans talks the biggest amount of shit sometimes, he thinks.

Actually, he doesn't think it. He _knows_ it. What he can't understand is why he can't seem to find anybody else who agrees with him.

"Is there anything else you wanted to say, Evans?"

She doesn't reply – not that he thought she would. Her arms are folded across her chest, her head is cocked to one side and she's deliberately avoiding his eye, tapping her foot impatiently on the hard, stone floor. She's in a sulk with him – bully for her, he thinks. She thinks she owns the whole school, Evans does, with her self-righteousness and her do-gooder ways and her superiority complex, and in James Potter's humble opinion she needs to be taken down a peg or two. He's only too happy to shoulder the task if nobody else is up for it, and he shoulders it with relish.

"Evans?" He repeats. "Are you alive in there? Hello?"

He tosses a scrunched up piece of parchment at her to get her attention and feels mildly irritated when it hits her square on the nose but again, she fails to respond. He doesn't have time for this nonsense. He has things to do. There are a couple of hours left before he has to leave for the Willow with the others, during which time he has to complete all of his homework (not something one can do in an hour in seventh year) and draw up a patrol schedule, and he can't officially end the meeting, or even get up and walk away, without getting her permission first. He knows she's only doing it to needle him – payback for all the times he deliberately irritated her, he supposes – for only ten minutes ago she was moaning about how she was going to be late for an engagement of her own.

"There are people _besides_ you who have things to be getting on with, you know."

She flicks her lengthy red hair - it shimmers rather prettily as it catches the light of the early evening sunset that streams through the open window – and makes a tiny noise of disinterest. Otherwise, she remains silent. Normally this would thrill him. Normally he prefers to drag this kind of thing out until a fully blown row ensues, but he's in a rush. He decides to cut it short, and use the ammunition that is almost always guaranteed to send her running in a hurry.

"I know you like me, Evans," he says slyly, leaning back in his chair and rocking it on its hind legs. "But really, keeping me here against my will when you-"

"Get over yourself!" she snaps, all pretences of deafness immediately dropped. Her cheeks turn a delicate shade of rosy pink almost immediately, and she has shoved her few belongings into her bag and jumped to her feet before James even has time to smirk in triumph. "The meeting is _over_, Potter, and I don't even know why you were sitting there _pretending_ to need my permission to bugger off anyway, seeing as how you have no problem with other people doing it!"

Aha. Victory is sweet indeed. He supposes he can allow himself a few seconds to bask in it, since winning against Lily Evans is such a rare and unexpected treat. "You're not denying it, I've noticed."

"Denying what?"

"That you fancy me."

"I fancy you in a bonfire, perhaps," she retorts sharply, hoisting her bag over one shoulder. "Go jump in a lake or something, I have to go, I'm late."

"You wouldn't be late if you hadn't sat there for five minutes like an idiot," he points out, also rising from his seat and picking up his own bag. "Huffing and puffing to yourself because you couldn't get your own way."

"May I remind you that we're supposed to take five minutes after we dismiss the other Prefects to arrange our duties?" says Lily, who hasn't made any effort to leave the room in spite of her tragic lateness. "You, being useless as always, had nothing to say!"

"You didn't ask me!"

"I shouldn't have to ask!"

"Oh, oh right," says James, his voice rising ever so slightly. "I'm supposed to be a Legilimens now, am I? Another impossibly high standard of yours that people have to meet before you'll give them the time of day?"

"You know what, Potter?" she hisses, and unlike him, her voice lowers to a deadly tone. "You're just, you're just, just so…"

"Just so what?" he says, feeling heat rise in his chest. "Just so what, Lily?"

She stands in silence for maybe a fraction of a moment, staring at him, and James can almost see the cogs in hear head spinning frantically as she tries to come up with an inventive enough way to tell him just how much she wishes he had never been born, but she merely satisfies herself with a wild sounding snarl and a deeply menacing glare.

"Forget it. I don't have time for this. And don't you dare call me Lily." Discussion over. She pushes past him on her way to the door, making sure that her elbow makes contact with his stomach on the way out. She's not a violent person by nature, Lily Evans, but she can reach that point when she's pushed, and James sure likes to push her. He suspects she enjoys hitting him from time to time, and he knows she knows that it hurts, because she's uncommonly strong for such a diminutive, slender girl, but he always pretends it doesn't. He's a man, after all. Men don't let girls hurt them.

Truth be told, he rather likes it.

He follows her out of the tiny classroom where they meet for their regular Prefect meetings, making sure to lock the door behind him. She watches him closely and with narrowed eyes, as if locking a door is a Herculean task for a man of such simplicity, one that he might struggle to accomplish. She doesn't usually hang around like this after a meeting, especially when she's made plans, but she's probably waiting for some sort of an apology for his earlier behaviour, when he let his friend walk out of the meeting without asking her permission first, which was how all of the trouble started to begin with.

She's not going to get an apology, not from him. He was within his rights, Dumbledore won't care, she can kick and scream all she wants and nobody will listen. He feels a rather savage pleasure at the thought of her frustration, and shakes it roughly away, feeling immediately guilty. His occasional feelings of anger towards her are understandable, but that doesn't make them right.

"Can I help you?" he says, as he turns to face her. She spins on her heel and flounces away down the corridor, muttering to herself about how much of a dick he is.

She's a gigantic pain in the neck, that Lily Evans.

"Enjoy yourself, love!" he shouts happily, watching her stomp along the corridor with her nose lifted daintily in the air and her flaming red hair swishing along behind her, silken and glossy and altogether mesmerising. She doesn't look back at him and he drops his voice to a murmur. "You complete and utter psychopath."

He keeps his eyes fixed upon her retreating back until she disappears from view, at which point he sets off on his own way, jogging a little to make time. James generally likes to stroll around the school at his own pace, never caring for schedules, entirely of the opinion that time should endeavour to fit itself in around whatever plans he may have. He gets an awful scolding from his mother about it; she doesn't think he cares enough. She doesn't think he'll get anywhere in life if he doesn't try a little harder. She doesn't think he can take anything seriously. He doesn't agree with her, but he's passed the point of arguing. Women rarely listen to men when they're fighting with them, his Dad likes to say. Just keep your head down, James, and agree with everything they throw at you.

Lily Evans certainly doesn't listen to him when she's angry, he reminds himself. She shares his mother's opinion of him, too, and is always giving him lectures about Being Conscientious and Caring More and Taking Things Seriously. Ironically, even though Lily is never seen without her wristwatch, plans her days almost obsessively and rushes almost everywhere in a giant panic, she is constantly late for everything and James very rarely is. Sometimes he tries to tell her that if she calmed down a little and stopped rushing through the corridors, she wouldn't keep arriving behind time for everything, but she tells him that he's being illogical and dashes off to another crucial appointment, only to go flying into some poor student and drop her numerous possessions all over the floor. Then she wonders why she has arrived to Transfiguration a full three minutes after everyone else.

She's mentally unstable, that's what she is. How can anyone stand her for more than five minutes?

He reaches the portrait hole and winks at the Fat Lady before giving her the password. She shoots him a haughty glare – his second of the day – before letting him pass. She doesn't like him because he has interrupted her in the night too many times while she is trying to sleep, and she likes to bear grudges. It's not really very fair because Sirius is worse, and she loves Sirius, but then again, women are mad. If he tried to figure them out he'd burst a blood vessel in his brain.

Three more minutes sees James settled on his bed, bag beside him, with two days' worth of homework spread out before him like an oddly distorted fan. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the antique silver watch that his mother gave him on his seventeenth birthday, which he never carries save for days like these, when time is off the essence. He has Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology and Charms homework to complete in the space of an hour and a half, which is pushing it a bit, but he didn't get the Head Boy badge because he has a brain full of sawdust. Potions is undoubtedly what needs to be looked at first, as it's his weakest subject and he has a particularly important essay to complete on the topic of Veritaserum; the history of the potion, its importance in a modern society threatened by the increase of Dark Magic – it's difficult stuff. He needs to concentrate. Lily would know all of this, but forget her, he needs to knuckle down. It's her best subject. It's not his. He shouldn't be thinking about her when he's got work to do. Maybe he should copy from the textbook, but he doesn't really want to, he's supposed to be setting a good example, she'd be so mad at him, he really shouldn't.

He won't. He doesn't need to. He takes pride in his work now. He just needs to focus, focus, focus…

She's crazy. She has to be. He's positive. Surely any _sane_ person would realise after six years that the only reason she was always late is because she spends half the day falling over and knocking people down? Does she even notice where she is half the time? Unless Lily is in class, or doing her homework, or working in the library, or engaged in a conversation with someone, her mind seems to fly off somewhere that James is pretty sure isn't located anywhere near the castle.

"Bloody woman!" he barks, kicking at one of his bedposts in frustration. This always happens. It's her fault. The girl has a way of popping into his head and yelling, 'Here I am, dipshit!' whenever he really doesn't want or need her to be there, and then she stays firmly put, for hours on end, smiling or shouting or tossing her hair over her shoulder or rolling her eyes at him until he's so angry and annoyed that he wants to find the girl for real and strangle her. It's entirely her fault, it's just one of the many things she does to deliberately ruin his life on a daily basis. He'll be thinking about her all night.

He could pick up a book and force her out of his thoughts, but he can't, because he doesn't want to, and admitting this to himself does nothing to ease his temper.

She's mad, he tells himself again, throwing his Potions book on the floor and leaning back against his pillows, completely mad. She's been cracked ever since first year. If she isn't doing something completely ridiculous, she's off looking for something ridiculous to do. When she's in a bad mood, everybody knows it; she trudges and glares her way around the castle and refuses to leave any survivors in her wake. If she's happy she dances around like an angel and beams at people she doesn't even know, as if she loves the entire world, as if she doesn't know what anger is. She is bossy and hypocritical and she starts arguments with him at the most inconvenient of times, especially when she _knows_ it's an inconvenient time. She's impossible. She's a nuisance. She drives him up the wall.

Oh, but he is _crazy_ about her.

He doesn't understand why, out of all the girls in the school, all the girls in the world, even, he happened to fall completely and hopelessly in love with a girl who is just so irritating and so vicious and who hates him so very much. He can vaguely remember the time when his crush on her was just that, a little crush, and nothing of real significance. He liked her because she was pretty, very pretty, stunningly pretty. She has the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen, bright and sparkling and emerald green, and her hair is like molten lava, and her skin is like porcelain, but that's nothing, _nothing_, when compared to just how funny she is, or how clever she is, or just how sweet and kind and deeply, truly _good_ she is at heart. She cares for people with a devotion surpassing anything he has ever witnessed in another human being. She feels actual pain for her loved ones when they're hurt or upset; he's seen her do it. He sees how her friends worship her like a goddess, and why would they not, when she would happily give her life to protect any one of them from harm?

He throws himself into his Potions essay for a meagre half hour, a painful half hour, before he finally admits defeat. Sighing, he banishes his books to the bedside table with a sweep of his wand and summons the Map with another. Under the lame pretence of scanning the corridors for teachers, he silently tells himself not to search for her name, but as always, this doesn't work, and does little to quell his desire for her.

She angers him because he just wants to _hold_ her, or kiss her, or even hold her gaze for more than a fleeting second. She angers him because she is so utterly beautiful that it pains him to look at her, and pains him even more not to. She angers him because the depth and intensity of his love for her is surely some sign of weakness, something that people like Sirius and indeed, Lily herself would probably laugh at. She angers him because she is not his to love, and because if she was his, he would love her more than Collins ever could, would make her happier than Collins ever could, and she's too blind to see it. She angers him because she should be his and she's too stubborn to admit it. She angers him because there are so many things about her that irritate him greatly - her temper, her haughty attitude, her stubbornness, her pride, her complete and utter lack of awareness – that all conspire to form a woman that he could not find anywhere else if he searched for a million years and she angers him because he cannot, and will not, settle for anyone other than such a woman.

He hates Stephen Collins for taking her for himself. Collins, he figures, is not the right match for Lily. He's a nice bloke, he's decent, but he's too quiet, too simple, too uncomplicated for Lily. He's seen them together and he doesn't like her when she's with him. She's not Lily when she's with him. She's a shadow of herself, less vivacious, less obnoxious. She doesn't sparkle with him, not the way he's seen her sparkle for the past six years. She can't be happy, not unless she can only be herself around that boy, not unless she's doing a great job at fooling the rest of the world. It's the only logical conclusion he can come to, and he clings to it with both hands.

He wants to seek her out and shake her, shake her until she sees sense, until she sees that she should be with James, that she can love him and that they can love each other. That they could be happy together, and all she needs to do is wake up and open her eyes.

He finds her on the map almost immediately.

He shouldn't get so excited; all he's found is a small, barely noticeable dot with her name above it, moving along the Entrance Hall in the direction of the staircase, but even the sight of her name on parchment is enough to make his heart thump wildly in his chest. In the very back of his mind, a voice reminds him that she had mentioned going on a date with Collins, but a quick scan of the map shows Collins in his own bed in his own dormitory. She's not with him. He feels triumphant, like he's just won some kind of epic battle. Maybe, just maybe, she was in such a terrible mood after the meeting that she dumped Collins in the meanest and coldest way possible and clattered her way out of the Astronomy with a view to finding James and shouting at him some more. Wouldn't that be fantastic? It's a very silly thought, but a sustaining one. He'll throw a party on the day she breaks it off Collins, and then he won't invite her, just to piss her off. Good plan.

Of course, he reminds himself, she'll stay with Collins forever. She does love him, after all. Any suspicions to the contrary are just the results of wishful thinking. He thinks that staying with Collins forever will ruin her, but that could be (and probably is) his overactive imagination, trying to mess with him. It's like James to be so desperate for her that he'll imagine things like this, like sometimes when he thinks he has caught her looking at him, or sometimes when he thinks that she might just be flirting with him. It's not real. She and Collins are real. James doesn't have anything real with Lily Evans.

He feels a stirring, consuming, absolutely horrible need to seek her out and see her. Does he have enough time, he wonders? He really shouldn't, she'll suspect something. He's supposed to stay put so he can leave with the others when they get back. No, it's probably best that he doesn't. He won't.

A moment later and he's tearing out of the common room like he's running for his life.

Sprinting along the dimly lit corridors, he berates himself for leaving to find her, and yet he doesn't turn back. Like a strange compulsion, the relief he will feel when he sees her will, even if only for a second, outweigh all the anguish and pain he will feel later when he has somehow said something to make her hate him even more and falls further still in her estimation of him. Mentally preparing for his death, he rounds one last corner and even though he already knew she was there, and her name remains on the map, seeing her still sends shockwaves through his body.

And he already regrets his decision

"What are you doing out here, Potter?" Her voice is cold and sharp and she doesn't look in the least bit happy, but she never looks happy to see him.

I'm here for you, Lily, he wants to say. He is here for her; sometimes it seems as if he _exists_ for her. He wants to tell her that she's everything, absolutely everything. The only way he could possibly describe his feelings for her is to tell her that she is everything. She is the entire castle and all the magic found within it, she's the feeling he gets when he's soaring above a Quidditch pitch at several hundred feet, she's his classes, his friends, his books, his broomstick, his everything. She's everything. Lily is everything that makes him happy, who makes him feel like he is who he is. She, inarguably, inescapably and unendingly, _is_.

She wouldn't laugh at him and she wouldn't even be scornful, because she's sweet and kind and good and caring, but she _would_ turn him down, and even though she turns him down at least once a week whenever he throws a casual invite at her, this really isn't the same thing. He'd be handing her his heart and his hopes and his dreams and she'd have to hand them all back. It's easier to pretend that she does love him, and that he was just too foolish to risk it, than to actually risk it and never have that one whisper of a hope to exist upon. He's a coward. He knows it. Some Gryffindor he's turned out to be.

He should answer her question, but everything he wants to say is everything he can't.

So he says nothing.


	2. Stephen

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it. I own Stephen Collins, is all. By the way, is anyone happy about Deathly Hallows being released in July? Can I get a wh00t, wh00t?!!!!!!!!!**

**vea, I know you love Stephen, and pity his Paul Dano-esque bones. This chapter is for you.****  
**

**Stephen**

He remembers, remembers with great clarity, the first time he ever saw Lily Evans, really opened his eyes and _saw_ her.

She was a pretty girl, this had always been apparent to him, but that knowledge had never really entered his mind in any significant way until a few years after he first met her, a little while after his raging hormones had started to alter his perception of the fairer sex, after his voice had broken and after he had had his first kiss (messy and somewhat frightening) with that little blonde Hufflepuff from the year above him. His 'crush' on Lily took root some time in third year after he witnessed her jump into the Great Lake on a dare, emerge giggling and soaking wet just under a minute later and call upon the Giant Squid to invite her down for tea. Most of the watching students thought she was mad, attention-seeking or both, but the truth was that she just couldn't back down from a challenge. Lily was, is and always will be, entirely fearless.

He, on the other hand, is a complete coward. There were many occasions spanning three years on which he almost, almost plucked up the courage to ask her out on a date, but never quite managed it. He is firmly convinced that she wasn't even aware that he existed for a long time. It wasn't until one particularly wet, miserable day in sixth year when he thought, 'To hell with it,' and asked her to accompany him to Hogsmeade. He remembers how she looked that day, stomping into the Entrance Hall with muddy books and shoes, sporting a scowl and cursing under her breath. He figured that if she turned him down whilst in the throes of a temper tantrum, then at least he could always console himself with the weak hope that maybe she had only said no because she was in an awful mood. So he accosted her there and then and to his absolute astonishment, not only did she say yes, but she literally jumped at the offer. In fact, she spent the entire duration of their conversation hopping from one foot to the other; he's never actually asked her why she did that.

They went out on a date, and then another, and then another, and now a whole year has passed.

An entire year passed, and Lily bounds into the Astronomy tower, breathless and dizzy. His heart swells with the familiar feeling he experiences when in her presence, the same feeling he has experienced since their very first date. A whole year.

"I'm sorry I'm late, sweet- oh my! This is beautiful!"

Lily jumps on the spot with delight, casting an awestruck look at the ceiling above her head. He has taken her to the Astronomy tower many, many times before, but there is always a moment in which she is rendered speechless by the millions of twinkling, glittering constellations and the hoards of hazy, purple clouds. Lily is easily moved by beauty. She once told him that only man-made things are ugly and that nature is the closest thing to perfection one can ever hope to see. He argues that she is far more beautiful than anything he could observe through a telescope. She will scoff at his romanticism when he tells her this, slapping his arm and calling him a pansy. He is used to it. It is an old, familiar routine that he thinks he will never tire of.

She tired of it long ago, he knows.

"Were you held up?" he asks, holding out a hand for her to come and join him. She takes a few steps towards him and then stops, her attention still diverted by the scene above her. She is in an uncommonly good mood tonight, he notices. Her face is flushed and rosy. Her fingers twitch with restless energy. She smiles with the air of one who has a delightful secret, one who is about to embark on an exciting journey, or one who has fallen in love, that giddy, unexplainable love that can only happen once, when one is young. It is how he feels for the girl standing three feet away from him.

"Yes," she replies in a faraway voice. "Meeting difficulties."

"Potter again?"

"Isn't it always?" she says, looking down momentarily to grin impishly at him. Her eyes travel upwards once more and her voice takes on a hint of bitterness. "Bloody prat."

He can't answer that question. He chooses to ask another.

"We certainly picked a fantastic night for an Astronomy tower picnic, didn't we?"

She nods excitedly and gazes upwards once again. Her hair tickles her elbow as she tilts her head back and she compulsively slaps it away. Unperturbed, it resumes its elbow-tickling and she pulls it roughly over her shoulder. Lily complains constantly about her wayward hair. It gets in the way too much, she is wont to say, hissing through gritted teeth as she tries to hold it off her face in the library, or whenever she finds a stray strand in her mouth. He has long since learned that suggesting she cut it is about as effective as attacking a Salamander with a flaming torch. As much as her hair exasperates her, long it is and long it will remain for all of eternity, or at least until she tires of it.

She cut it short once, back in sixth year. He remembers returning to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays to find his girlfriend sporting a chin length bob and chattering happily about the benefits of 'chopping off that curse'. He remembers thinking that she looked beautiful, and also remembers that he was not the only one who did. She received numerous compliments from friends and admirers, all telling her how grown up and sophisticated that hairstyle made her look. Even Professor Sprout stopped her in the corridor to tell her how becoming she was.

But a week later she was using growth charms and thickening potions as if they were going out of fashion, impatient as always. He questioned her motives for this more than once. Whenever he asks her why, she tells him that she looks prettier with long hair, that she didn't feel like herself without it and that she missed having something there to keep her neck warm. She is sincere in her argument, she always is, but maybe she was lying to herself even then. Maybe she wasn't. Maybe he is grasping at straws. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

_He_ hadn't liked it.

**…**

"You're a daft cow Evans, why'd you cut your hair?!" The stupid boy had asked her, parking his skinny bottom on her desk and barely missing her mounds of parchment.

"More to the point, Potter, why _don't_ you cut your hair?" she replied tartly, shooting him a scathing look before returning to her essay. Potter was accompanied by his usual posse that day, although Remus and Peter seemed to be the only people who were actually interested in using the library. Black just stood beside him with that contemptuous smirk on his face. Stephen isn't sure what to think of Sirius Black, he always looks as if he knows something he shouldn't, something on the wrong side of the acceptable.

Lily was unruffled by their presence, she has always been a lot more at ease around the Marauders than Stephen has. She had gotten used to James' frequent interruptions by this time. Even then she might have enjoyed them. How Stephen wishes he has a Pensieve, because his own memory seems to enjoy altering itself to suit his mood. Sometimes Lily's actions on that day indicated that she was annoyed by Potter's presence at the table, and sometimes they indicated that she was positively gleeful. Stephen isn't sure what to think anymore, only that such a stupid memory should not be dissected and obsessed over so much, but he can't help it.

"I don't need to. My hair is gorgeous. Like yours used to be," Potter retorted, ruffling his own shaggy mane.

"What's wrong with my hair?" she asked, looking genuinely put out.

He nudged her knee with his foot.

"It's naff."

"Naff?!"

"It doesn't look right. I liked it better before," was all he said by way of explanation before darting forwards to wrap an arm around her neck and bury his nose in her hair for the briefest of moments. He grinned cheekily at the look of utter outrage and embarrassment that crossed her delicate and now roaring red features when he pulled away.

"At least it still smells the same."

**…**

She drops onto the blanket beside him and plants a kiss on his temple.

Could it have been going on since last year, he wonders? Probably not, Stephen knows that he may or may not be making mountains out of molehills with such theories.

She still tells him that she loves him every day, sounding just as sincere as she did on the first day she said it. Most of the time he will say it first, but she still says it off her own bat from time to time. She is not lying to him because she really, truly believes that she does. And maybe because he's pathetic, or frightened, or just plain stupid, he tells himself that she really does mean it. He pretends. There are times when he does a bloody good job of it too. For the most part it's not difficult. She shows him affection on a daily basis, listens to what he has to say and actively seeks out his company. These are not the actions of a girl who does not care for her companion, she does, very much so. He is sure of _that_, at least.

What he finds hardest to understand is exactly how this could have happened. There is no logical reason. Maybe if there was, Lily would be able to see the problem for herself instead of flitting about the castle in complete denial.

Stephen has always been the best boyfriend possible. He's made sure to always be sweet and kind and caring. He tells her every day how beautiful she is and how wonderful his life has been since she came blazing into it. He's never pushed her into doing anything she wasn't comfortable with, taken her unreasonable mood swings on the chin and never, ever dared to treat her with anything other than utmost respect. She tells him that he sees her through rose-tinted glasses but he doesn't think so. She really is perfect, she always has been. So why should he tell her anything to the contrary? Stephen is not an arrogant fellow, but he knows that he is the type of boyfriend that most girls would give anything for. He has witnessed many of Lily's comrades weeping on her shoulder because they have been treated horribly by the object of their affections.

But Potter, Potter is a different kettle of fish altogether. He is, despite what some people may say, still as arrogant as he was when he swaggered into the castle on day one and shoved a wiggling flobberworm down Lily's jumper. In Stephen's eyes, Head Boy-ship has sent his ego soaring to an even higher level. He flirts with her too, suggesting things that Stephen wouldn't even suggest when they are alone. He gets her in trouble sometimes, he messes with her head and he pops up out of nowhere to interrupt her conversations with other people as if he has a perfect right to. Sometimes he picks fights with her just so he can have the pleasure of ruining her day.

But what annoys, confuses and _infuriates_ Stephen most of all is that Potter had never been afraid to insult her.

"Evans, you don't half piss me off sometimes. Have you always been that annoying or is it just for my benefit?"

"No, no, no, Evans, you're doing it all wrong. The wand goes in an anticlockwise direction! _Anti-_clockwise. Are you getting that? Am I saying it slowly enough for you?"

"Evans, you daft cow!"

"Watch your backs lads, it's the shrew coming. What do you think crawled up Evans' arse and died today?"

But despite all of this, it is Potter she looks at, Potter she talks about, and Potter who causes her eyes to gleam with unadulterated excitement. It is that ephemeral sparkle that is rarely seen in her eyes anymore. Even in a magical place Hogwarts, her life has become prosaic and humdrum. She doesn't tell him as much, but Stephen knows her, he knows her better than she knows herself. He knows that whenever Lily breezes into the room with that look in her eyes and the corners of her mouth curling into a satisfied smile, it's because of _him_. Even if they've had a nasty argument, in fact, arguments with Potter are what she enjoys most.

Oh, he's seen her argue with Potter, all it takes is a few choice words from the ratty haired idiot and she's off, denouncing him like there's no tomorrow and professing her undying hatred over and over again. All that registers with Stephen is that when Lily hates Potter, which she does often, she hates _him_ with more passion and more fervor than that which she has ever loved Stephen. She complains and whines and curses herself for whatever she did in a past life that got her landed with Potter in this one every time, and just like when she is telling Stephen she loves him, she really does believe it.

But Stephen knows better. He knows that her pride would never allow her to admit, even to herself, something that everybody else could see happening years ago.

"Are you ok, sweetheart? You erm, you seem to be a little quiet today."

He tells her that he's fine, just a little tired. She seems satisfied with that answer and diverts her gaze back up to the stars.

He knows that she is unhappy. He is positive that unless someone gives her the jolt that she needs to make her see sense, the future will see the two of them married, perhaps even with children. They always talked about getting married one day. Lily never seemed to be as keen on it as Stephen, but he understood that. She wants to do other things before she gets married. She told him before that nothing or nobody will ever convince her to get married before she is thirty. Lately he is beginning to think that she just doesn't want to marry him. Stephen knows what she wants, oh, what Lily wants is clearer to him than to anyone else.

Potter must not know; must never know. Potter watches her like a hawk, watches her through the eyes of a desperate, helpless man, one who loves her even more than Stephen does. He watches her, but he doesn't see what Stephen does. Potter gave up hoping long ago, even if he hasn't stopped trying. So he must never know.

He knows in his heart that he should confront her about it, make her see clearly, but he can't. As much as he hates to see her like this, as much as it sickens him to know that there is someone else she cares for more than he, he is positive that it would be worse to lose her altogether. Does it make him weak? Probably. Does it make him selfish? Yes, but then Lily is not any ordinary girl. She is something spectacular, something that any man with sense would kill to hang on to. He thinks it makes him human. Who wouldn't want to cling on to the best thing that ever happened to him?

Potter certainly would.

So he says nothing.


	3. Remus

**Disclaimer: Do you know that Rowling could actually sue us**** for not adding a disclaimer? Isn't that weird? Yeah.****  
**

**Remus**

"Ex- ah, hmm, excuse me, Potter. Don't you think that I should be consulted about this?"

"Not really, Evans."

"Not really?" Lily lets out a short, disbelieving laugh and shakes her hair out of her face, squaring up for a fresh round. The surrounding students shift slightly in their seats, subconsciously settling in for what promises to be a good show. It always is. "I am Head Girl, my role in this school is _just_ as important as your one and therefore, my opinion is to be taken into consideration before you allow your friends to run rampant all over the school!" She stops glaring at James just long enough to shoot Remus an apologetic look. "No offence, Remus."

"None taken." He can tell that she is relieved that she managed to pull off her little rant without tripping over her words. Lily used to have an awful stutter.

"I'm not letting anybody run rampant, least of all Moony! He just wants to be excused early!"

"That is not the point! When a Prefect asks if he or she can leave the meeting, you and I are supposed to make a joint decision!"

"No, you mean, you're to make the decision and I'm supposed to sit here and let you have your way."

"Well, at least if we ran things that way, the decisions being made would be intelligent ones."

"Right, of course. Keep thinking that and one day it might happen," James yawns, looking supremely bored. It is a well practiced act. Everybody knows that when James starts to lose it, that's when you have a real argument on your hands. What everybody doesn't know is that James isn't actually calm. Pretending to be unruffled is one thing that's guaranteed to make Lily even angrier. Remus is sure that he is the only person in the room who can see that little purple vein above his friend's eyelid throbbing, throbbing, throbbing. With anger, perhaps, or frustration. Or maybe he is distressed, too. "Moony, go on, piss off. Don't listen to Miss Neuroses."

"Potter!" she hisses. "You can't use, use, use language like that at a bloody Prefects meeting!"

"Hark! The pot calls the cauldron black!"

"Oh shut up, you conniving little-"

"Lily?" Remus interrupts her before she can go on. Remus knows that it is horribly rude to interrupt, but he can see the beginnings of sunset through the small, dirty-paned window and he knows that he has lass than an hour to go. His fingers are starting to twitch, the hair on the back of his neck is standing to attention and he is feeling the slow but steady onset of what will eventually become blind panic. He told James that his coming was a bad idea in the first place. By sheer, dumb luck, there has never been a Prefect meeting scheduled on one of _these_ nights before and Remus, who never likes to enter into anything unprepared, thought that it was best he didn't come at all. Remus does not fret in general. He is a firm believer in assessing a bad situation as logically and calmly as possible, but on one of these nights, he can't help it. His nerves act as if independent from his mind. He doesn't know who he is. He would fall apart at a meeting, he told James as much.

But James insisted he come, maybe because he knew it would get Lily's goat when he gave him permission to leave early, or maybe because of a conversation they had had at the beginning of the school year.

"Listen mate, I'll be honest with you, I don't have a clue what I'm doing. I don't know why he made me Head boy and I know I'm going to make a complete prat of myself. Just- thank Merlin that you'll be there. Make sure I don't do anything too stupid, right?"

To look at James now, you wouldn't know that he is just as worried as Remus is. Remus must admit, generally Lily tends to distract James form his normal train of thought, but this is not just something that a man can shove to the back of his mind, especially not James. It is he who takes charge of this event every month, he does all the planning. As much as James likes to pretend that he can't care less, Remus knows that he won't be able to rest until he sees Remus well and safe the next day, despite the fact that he will be spending the evening in his company to ensure that nothing untoward does happen.

If Lily demands that Remus stay, there will be all kinds of problems, and then Madame Pomfrey will come looking for him and people will ask questions and…

"Yes Remus?" Lily looks at him, and Remus marvels at how her tone and expression can change in a nanosecond. She looks at and speaks to him as if he is her dearest friend in the world at this particular moment.

"I hate to be rude and I normally wouldn't ask, but I really do need to-"

"Oh, of course, of course you can leave, if you have to. It's perfectly alright! Go!" she smiles at him in that sweet, sisterly way that she does and shoos him away. He utters a quick thank you and exits the room with haste. As he walks down the corridor, he can hear James's incredulous voice.

"Do you have schizophrenia or something, Evans?! Because I distinctly heard you say-"

He chuckles to himself, humor regained if only for a second, and hurries along his way.

Madame Pomfrey is a very nice lady, if a bit frantic sometimes. As they walk towards the Willow, she gives him the same advice she always does, mainly to try not to hurt himself too much this time. He is such a handsome young boy; it is an awful pity to see him return back with fresh scars on his face. He should really eat more; he's starting to get awfully thin. Remember not to worry because there is no possible way for any human to enter the house. He'll be fine in the morning. Now keep your chin up and have an easy night, my dear.

He has to walk to the shack by himself.

This is what he hates most, being alone, walking up that dank, freezing passageway to that house and knowing what is to come. It scares him half to death sometimes. All the time. Sometimes, when he is with his friends, outside in the sunshine and making dry jokes about his 'furry little problem', he wonders why he makes such a fuss over it. The very second those roots close above his head and he is left alone with nothing other than his own thoughts, the monster comes to stare him in the face until he is so terrified that he wants to scream.

The pain of transforming is unbearable, like a million blisters bursting all at once, like being scalded by a million burning pokers, like re-growing an entire skeleton in a matter of seconds. Death cannot be as bad as this; in fact, sometimes he thinks that death would be preferable. And then there is always the 'what if'. What if someone decides to investigate the 'haunted house'? What if some unknowing Muggle stumbles across it and decides to take a peek? What if another werewolf is created tonight, another life ruined, because of him? What if someone knows what he is and decides that he shouldn't exist? There are ways and means to kill a werewolf. He knows, he has done all the research.

But he must not think of these things, these dark thoughts. He will not kill anyone tonight or any other night. Professor Dumbledore has it all covered, the villagers are too terrified to venture near the shack. Severus Snape has been sworn to secrecy. Nothing will go wrong, it never does.

His friends will take care of him.

Remus often thinks of his friends as he makes this trip. It helps him to relax, knowing that they will be there within a matter of hours. It used to be so much harder before. He likes to mull over their little troubles and worries, it distracts him from his own. So naturally, a lot of time is spent pondering the subject of James and his 'tiny infatuation' with Lily Evans.

It was James who decided that they learn to become Animagi, just like that. A snap decision. James is known for his snap decisions. He is quite possibly the most impulsive person Remus has ever known, even more so than Sirius, and Lily, who likes to dance down the corridors for no reason at all. Remus remembers that day as clearly as he can remember what he ate for dinner this evening (steak and chips, with two fried eggs and a glass of milk). It was the morning after one of his more horrendous nights. He was lying in a stiff hospital bed, half dead because of his own, self-inflicted torture and barely able to decipher the shapes and colors surrounding him. Miserable. Hopeless. Utterly disgusted with himself. Oh, he knew that none of this was his fault, but all blame aside, he was a werewolf. And that was sickening.

Out of nowhere, James slapped his palm against the bed and he announced that if they couldn't keep an eye on him as humans, then they'd do it as animals. Remus hadn't even known they were there, but James' voice cut through his thought like a foghorn cuts through the thickest fog.

Like always, Sirius and Peter agreed without hesitation and Remus felt his spirits lift. Surely, if his friends actually wanted to spend time with him when he became this ravenous creature, he couldn't be as repulsive and repellent as he thought.

Remus has felt less like a monster and more like a person ever since. He is a good person, someone who deserves good friends, good results, long, lazy days by the lake edge and Honeydukes' finest chocolate. He cannot explain what it is that has changed, but something has. He still feels a sense of shame about how he acted a couple of years ago, back when they used to leave the shack together and go exploring. Sirius and James have plenty of control over him, but even they can admit now that prowling around Hogsmeade in the dead of night with a fully grown werewolf was somewhat of a bad idea. They always stay in the shack now and that's fine by Remus. His mind has reached a place where it is more like the man and less like the wolf during his transformed state, so he is a lot easier to control. Sometimes, even, he can drift out onto a sea of daydreams, even whilst tearing into a large joint of bloodied meat that was brought for him by his companions.

He owes it all to James, he supposes. Sirius and Peter too, but if James hadn't decided to do it…

James has been rather miserable lately, Remus has noticed. So has Lily, and he suspects that he knows why. Lily is not a _very_ close friend, but he has gotten to know her rather well over the years and he sometimes likes to stop by her favored armchair in the common room to discuss various 'ologies' and 'isms' with her. He has watched her relationship with James evolve and take shape, watched their pointless bickering, watched their friendly teasing, and he has even seen them work incredibly well together at meetings. And he's noticed a difference between then and now. He's seen the way Lily looks at James sometimes, the way everything she says or does is suddenly more animated when she is around him. He has noticed how she sneaks glances at him from time to time, how she has started to drop his name into conversation a lot more than she used to.

Could she?

The idea seems ludicrous. Even without the fact that this is Lily Evans and James Potter, the most unlikely couple there is, there is also Stephen Collins to think about. He and Lily have been together for about a year now, and it is clear to see that they are very fond of one another. She talks about him too, but that's another thing, she has started to talk about him in the same way she would talk about her cat or her best friend. When she talks about James, it is usually part of some long winded rant about his many faults and failings. When she speaks of Stephen, it is to praise him and remind Remus of her luck in finding such a marvelous boyfriend, never to heap insults upon his person like coal onto a fire. But her eyes never light up when she talks about Stephen.

Of course, Stephen has always liked Lily more than she likes him. It's plain to see. Actually, the poor boy worships the ground she walks on. That doesn't necessarily mean that Lily doesn't have strong feelings for him in return. Remus doesn't want to be nasty, but sometimes he wonders if Lily doesn't tire of Stephen's constant stream of compliments. She once confessed to Remus that she wished Stephen would find some fault with her, because living up to his goddess-like image was just getting too hard.

Maybe she does tire of it. Maybe that's why she likes James so much. She can say that she hates him as much as she pleases, but he has seen the grins they shoot at one another, usually when they're teasing each other about something stupid. He has heard them chatter about nonsensical things and witnessed their witty banter. Remus used to think that they had the potential to be great friends, now he's not sure if friendship would be good enough. Not for James anyway, he loves her so much that it's painful to watch him sometimes. Maybe friendship would not be good enough for Lily too.

But who is he to speculate and theorize over a romantic relationship? He has never had one.

He doesn't like to see his friend so eaten up over it, but if he tells James his suspicions and he turns out to be incorrect, surely it will only serve to depress him even more? The last thing James is in need of is another rejection. He supposes that he could ask Lily, it is something he has been considering for a while now, but she might not appreciate the intrusion. If it is one thing Remus has learned, and learned from hard experience, it is to always keep his nose out of other people's business. It causes nothing but trouble.

Maybe, he thinks, trying to remain optimistic as the walks up the creaky old staircase and his skin begins to itch, maybe if they are right for each other, it will all work itself out in the end. Whatever goes on is between the two of them. It is not Remus' place to meddle.

So he says nothing.


	4. Lily

**Disclaimer: Hold the newsreader's nose squarely, waiter, or friendly milk will countermand my trousers. That quote is from _A Bit of Fry & Laurie_, and I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Lily**

Lily wonders where it all went hazy.

She can't even remember when everything became clearer and murkier all at once, just that it can't have been that long ago. She wishes that she could revert back to the time when she was still in fierce denial. It was easier then. Everything that she can't understand now was comprehensible then, and vice versa. Does that even make sense?

"No, look, Stephen. Stephen, _yooouuuuuu_ go on. I just, I just… want to stay here for a while," She shrugs. "Have some alone time, you know? The girls will still be awake when I get back and I just want a minute before… well, you know what they're like," she flashes him a smile, because he needs to be certain that she's absolutely fine. Nothing is bothering her, all is well in her orderly little world, there's no inner turmoil. He knows that there is something wrong and she knows he knows it, but the subject will remain untouched. Communication has never been a strong factor in their relationship. He seems to know what she needs without asking her about it, not always, but most of the time.

"If you're sure… you'll be ok walking back alone?"

"I am, and I will."

She feels an upsurge of affection for the tall, serious looking young man before her, eternally grateful to him because he never, ever questions her when she needs to be alone. He knows that sometimes she just needs to figure things out by herself. There are certain people who insist upon pestering her until they get her to speak, but Stephen is not like that. He's the sweetest boy she has ever known. As expected, he nods his head and reaches behind his back to pull the door open.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too."

He leaves, making sure to close the door gently behind him (he doesn't want to disturb her) and Lily is left with nothing but the stars, stars that are beginning to irritate her because they twinkle merrily with no problems to hinder them, and a raging battle inside of her own mind. She simply _can't_ think about it tonight, it's becoming much too tiring, but she knows she will anyway. Her happy mood of earlier has long since evaporated.

She is positive that she is going slowly insane. She used to think that people who found themselves in her situation were weak, stupid, selfish, probably all three. Lily is already aware of her many failings, but she has always thought herself to be a strong individual, has always prided herself on her intelligence and has always striven to put the needs of others before her own. So her only explanation is lunacy.

She wishes. A decline into mental instability would be so much easier to deal with right now. She throws her head back and stares up at the magnificent sky, slightly mollified, if only for a second. It's not the fault of the stars that they are so contented, starts do not have those silly boys to contend with. Change, change can be very frightening, so it is a comfort to know that no matter what happens, the sun will go on rising and the sun will go on setting and the stars will go on shining from now until the end of eternity. She cannot stay angry with the stars for too long.

Thoughts of stars inevitably draw her eyes to her right hand. There is a ring on her fourth finger, a pretty, glittery thing comprising of silver and amethyst. Stephen gave it to her last June and asked her to wear it for him. Maybe, he had said, she would wear it on her left hand one day, and she had consented to wear it, feeling less giddy and more secure than she had always imagined. Security is a nice thing, one of the best things.

She had thought that she was in love with Stephen when he gave her that ring, but now she is not so sure any more. Her feelings for him have not altered or diminished in any way since, but she is experiencing something quite different, something stronger and much more frightening. And since that stubborn, demanding voice in her head that speaks to her so often tells her that it is impossible to be in love with two people at once, all that is left is the seemingly undeniable certainty that she loves one and is in love with another. Many people wouldn't place much difference between these two, but to Lily, they are whole worlds apart. Love is the most powerful feeling one can have. She feels it for her family, she feels it for her friends, she feels it for her owl, Beatrice, and she feels it for Stephen. But to be _in_ love is completely different. Lily has never been in love with Stephen and there is a small, gradually growing part of her that believes that romantic relationships are lacking when the 'in love' factor is not included. As for the person who she is in love with…well, she doesn't love him, but she could.

Stephen is an attractive bloke, with his deep, serious blue eyes, crooked smile and soft, dark hair. He has a lovely dimple in his right cheek that she likes to kiss and freckles on his arms. He is gorgeous, no doubt about it. He is certainly much more attractive than the skinny, bespectacled, tousle-haired fellow who so often occupies her mind nowadays. Sometimes, Lily looks at Stephen and feels like she's bagged herself the most handsome boyfriend in the world.

Stephen has never given her butterflies in her stomach and never made her heart beat so fast and so loud that she fears it can be heard by those around her. _He_ has.

Stephen is a clever bloke, maybe even more so than _him_. He is a Ravenclaw, after all. He makes her laugh and they have endless interesting conversations, ranging from topics such as suicide to the possibility of the suits of armour having meaningful relationships with one another. Sometimes, Lily looks at Stephen and feels like she's bagged herself the most interesting boyfriend in the world.

Why is it that whenever she speaks to _him_, everything seems much funnier and a million times more interesting? But then, _he_ has that way of making everything seem so spectacular when he speaks about it. He has opinions that she never thought he was capable of having, because she used to think that he couldn't take anything seriously or be an adult about anything. He used to be such a childish prat, for want of a more eloquent description. Stephen has always been so mature, so settled, so refined.

She can't understand how _he_ managed become an adult and still remain a child, but then it occurs to her that she is exactly the same. She still likes to jump on her bed. Change is such an odd and discomfiting thing.

Damn Potter, she thinks, stamping her foot on the cold, stone floor as she scrambles to a standing position. He's nothing but an ignorant bastard. She should have known that he'd end up pulling some stupid stunt like this. She remembers a year ago, telling Potter that there was absolutely nothing he could do to make her hate him even more and _nothing_ he could do to irritate her even more. She genuinely thought that she was speaking the truth, surely, she had thought, Potter _couldn't_ get any worse. She should have known that the cocky imbecile would take up the challenge, because he made her fall in love with him and now she hates him more than ever.

She wanders aimlessly down the staircase that leads to the entrance hall, knowing that she should get back to the common room but not wanting to go back. She shares a common room with Potter and she doesn't want to be near him at the minute. And yet, at the same time, she's longing to see him. She spends so much time worrying over him nowadays, but whenever he's there she forgets that she even has this problem. She can only focus on him.

And like magic (which, she will concede later, it probably was) he's right there, ten feet away from her.

That's the trouble with Potter, Lily knows. She can build up as much malice and anger she pleases, but the second she sees him all of that hate goes right out the window and there is a moment when she will do anything, _anything_, for the man in front of her. And even though it only takes a few minutes for the malice and anger to return, there is always that moment of feeling completely and utterly exposed. And that pisses her off. She knows that it's not his fault, but it is so very nice to blame him.

"What are you doing out here, Potter?"

Merlin, she sounds so rude, bitchy even. She silently congratulates herself. He doesn't seem to be affected by her coldness, she has noticed. He stops, rolls up a piece of parchment he has been holding, stows it away in the robes and shoves his fists into his pockets. It is only then that he looks at her, taking his time to survey her from top to bottom several times before deigning to answer her. It is an insult to her impatient nature and her irritation intensifies, but at the same time she wonders if he likes what he sees, or if the sight of her now leaves him cold.

"I may ask you the same question."

"I'm Head girl. I can prowl around here if I please. What are you doing out of bed?"

"I'm Head boy; you're not the only one with prowling rights."

They had a fight earlier, not a bad one, about a two on the Richter scale, she supposes. Arguments with Potter are her secret pleasure, she loves watching him get irritated. It is during those arguments that she feels happiest, because all of his attention is focused on _her_, because only she can have that effect upon him, no one else. He is quite popular amongst the students and she knows that there are a few girls that he speaks to. They're not his friends and he's not dating anyone, but he still talks to them. Most of them are very sweet and some of them are even friendly with her, but that can just make it worse at times. If those girls were horrible in the first place it would be so much easier to hate them. When she sees him chatting to pretty girls like Flora Banville or Alice Smith-Compton, her insides seethe with jealousy, even though she has no right to, he is not hers to feel possessive of. Just knowing that he pays attention to other girls is enough to drive her batty. So when they argue, she feels happy in the knowledge that no other girl could ever irritate him as much as she can. It's like a little part of him that belongs to her entirely, a little part that she clings to with both hands.

"Oh yes, we are both perfectly within our rights but you see, it is you, and not I, who chooses to exploit that fact."

He folds his arms across his chest and scowls at her. She knows him well enough to see that he is clearly in one of his moods. And like she does so many times, even though she hates the thought for even cropping up, she can't help but wonder what it would be like to cuddle him. Not hug, cuddle. She has an almost overwhelming urge to be in _his_ arms, to bury her head in _his_ chest, to breathe in _his_ scent. Maybe it is that urge that brings her right foot forward, then her left, then her right again, until she is barely a foot away from him.

"Are you going to answer me, hmm? Or are you just going to stand there with that cantankerous look on your face?"

That's better, she can smell him now. She loves the way he smells, although she's damned if she can tell exactly what it is he smells of. All she knows is that it's nice. She doesn't remember him smelling so nice before this year. Three weeks ago she gently persuaded Slughorn into giving her a vial of Amortentia to 'study' ("Well of course you wouldn't need it to make anyone fall in love with you, Miss Evans. I'd be surprised if you could find a boy in the school who already isn't!") and she has actually sunk so low as to open the vial and breathe it in whilst sitting it in her bed at night, because it is exactly like smelling James. Whoever said that scent was one of the world's most powerful aphrodisiacs was entirely correct.

The scent is always nicer when it's coming from James himself, and not a potion.

"Well if my not answering is going to piss you off, then no, I don't feel like answering, thank you very much."

The urge is still very much there, but she's safe. Even if he wanted her to, and sometimes she thinks that he might, there is not a chance of Lily so much as holding Potter's hand, let alone throwing herself into his arms. Hell will freeze over and Sirius Black will get married before Lily Evans cheats on her boyfriend, no matter how strong her feelings for Potter may be. Maybe she'll just aim a nice, painful poke at his chest. That's not cheating, but at least she'll get to touch him. She lifts up her hand and moves it about two inches before he grabs it with a swiftness one would expect of a Gryffindor Quidditch captain who practices with a snitch at least half an hour every day, even if he is only a Chaser. He raises an eyebrow at her and his lips to curl into a cocky smirk.

"Oh no you don't."

He's crushing her fingers but she doesn't care, she has an erratic heartbeat to control. She can't let him get one over on her, so she pokes him with her other hand, quick as a flash.

"Ow," he says in monotone. "That really hurt."

"What are you doing out here, Potter?"

"Why are you such a nosy cow, Evans?"

Potter never holds back when he has a problem with her, he'll tell her exactly what she's doing to piss him off. She used to hate it. Used to. As much as Potter likes to point out her faults, he is always the first person to jump to her defence when she is being criticized unfairly, or compliment her for something she's done well, or tell her she looks pretty when she does something new with her hair and thinks that nobody noticed. She had thought that being a co-head with Potter would be hellish, but he makes everything much easier for her. If she wants to schedule a meeting on an evening that he has Quidditch practice, he will rearrange his team's timetable. He sorts out squabbles amongst Prefects and always offers to do the most annoying jobs, like supervising the first years. Sometimes, when Lily is feeling exhausted, she gets up from her cosy spot on the sofa to find that Potter has already left to take over her shift.

Last month she caught dragon pox and was in the hospital wing for two weeks. Potter, who takes every class she does, brought all of the necessary notes to her every evening and took homework from her every morning without fail. Even then she missed a lot of work and for two days after she got out, she sat in the library until well after dinnertime trying to catch up. Stephen kept asking her to go and eat, to no avail, but Potter loaded a plate with food and kept it warm for her in the common room. And he made sure to sit with her until she ate it. When she asked him why he bothered, he said, 'You shouldn't lose any more weight, I've always liked your bum the way it is.' And that was Potter's way of saying that he cared.

How easy it would be for her to love him, how horrible it will be when she does. It is a looming certainty.

"It's my job to be a nosy cow, especially when it concerns degenerate miscreants."

"Such as?"

"Pardon?"

"I don't know any degenerate miscreants, Miss Evans, perhaps you could enlighten me as to who these people are."

"Just look in a mirror, Potter."

"Oh come now, Lily. Don't you think you're being a bit hard on Sirius?"

"Siri- what?! I didn't even mention Sirius!"

He smirks again, giving her that look he reserves only for when he knows something she doesn't.

"Several times. You haven't stopped talking about him for the entire duration of this conversation."

"Potter, you-"

"You don't remember mentioning him, of course, because you suffer from psychotic old granny disease and you frequently forget recent conversations. In fact, you're not actually Lily Evans. Lily Evans is the imaginary friend you had as a child eighty-seven years ago. Since becoming a geriatric, however, you have allowed her to take over your mind in a desperate effort to stay young and beautiful. I actually don't exist. I bear a strong resemblance to a boy you had an obsessive crush on as a teenager, which is why you have so many imaginary conversations with me."

"Oh really?"

"Yes really. But you know, acceptance is the first step towards recovery."

"You're an arse."

"You're trying not to laugh."

"No I'm not!"

"Oh yes you are Lily, just like you're trying to hide your real feelings for me. Somewhat unsuccessfully, may I add?"

"Yes, yes. That's quite possible. I should really just come out and admit that I despise you."

"Is that all you could think of?"

"Why should I waste valuable thinking time on such a complete waste of space, hmm?" She is beginning to lose her temper.

"Oh lighten up, for Merlin's sake! I'm only having a laugh! You can't still be pissed off about earlier?"

"Lighten up?" She is horribly exhilarated, even though fury is pulsing through her very veins. "This has nothing to do with that meeting, it's because you're accusing me of being bi-bloody-polar!"

"And I was wrong. You're not bipolar; you just have a shit sense of humour."

"Oh shut up, you insufferable fool."

"Don't be a spiteful cow and go off to your little lackey."

"Don't talk about him like that!"

"Who?"

"You know who!"

"I have no idea who you're talking about."

"Oh grow up," she spits. She whips around and seems to cross the entrance hall within seconds. She can take the long way to the common room, anything to avoid seeing him again. On her way up, she seethes for a while, misery only sets in when her heart has stopped pounding and she has found the Fat Lady's portrait. She is snoozing and Lily, knowing exactly how it feels to be abruptly woken during the night, and knowing that James will wake her himself later, doesn't want to disturb her, so she chooses instead to slide down the wall in a way that is probably overdramatic and typically adolescent. She feels tears gathering in her eyes and she tilts her head back, because she doesn't want to cry. Her own weakness has already sickened her enough for one day. She always thought that she was stronger than this; it is only weak girls that want two loves at once.

But she doesn't want two loves, there's only one person she wants, he's just not the one she's supposed to want. As for James, she wishes with all her heart that she could tell him, but she just can't.

She tells herself that it's because Stephen is the real love of her life, that she made a promise to him and that she shouldn't risk her future on a relationship that could possibly fall apart. She and Stephen are strong and comfortable. A relationship with Potter is an unknown, frightening entity. And what if he rejected her? She would be left with nothing. If she dumped Stephen for Potter and had her heart broken, Stephen would take her back, she is sure of it, but she would be sickened by her own selfish actions. She supposes that she's just a coward. And Merlin, she doesn't want to hurt Stephen, she'd give anything not to hurt him. She loves him so much, and she wants to love him in the way she's supposed to. Maybe if he knew that…. But that would only hurt more; he'd think he isn't good enough. He is good enough, more than that. How could she ever leave him?

She and Potter can and will never work, she tells herself. Not now and not ever. And if she keeps telling herself that, she might believe it someday. Who knows, it might even be true?

In her heart, she knows she can't win this one, but she doesn't want to lose it either.

So she says nothing.


	5. Peter

**Disclaimer: I did not create Harry Potter. I merely use his parents for my own enjoyment. Also, I'm sorry that I didn't include Sirius, but look at how much I wrote! It killed me to get this finished! This is the last chapter, anyway. Enjoy!**

**Shameless self-promotion, look at Rude Gus**

**Peter**

"If that fucking _twat_ doesn't come back this minute, I'm going to smack him around the common room."

Peter knows, of course, that Sirius is making yet another empty threat. Privately, he thinks that Sirius shouldn't be so impatient. James never lets anybody down, he will come back and they will get to Remus, even if they are a little late. Remus won't get angry with them, as a werewolf he has no understanding of time and even if he did, he is just happy that his friends are coming to him, no matter how long they take. There's no point in trying to explain this to Sirius when he is in a mood, however.

"Stupid, fucking, bloody-"

"Sirius, don't you think you should be a little quieter?" Not that it's odd for Sirius to be loud, but if someone were to come down the stairs and hear voices coming from nowhere in particular, they might worry a little. Or they would tell McGonagall, who would definitely come to investigate. Especially if that someone was someone like Lily Evans, she would immediately suspect the Marauders of anything unusual she happened to come across. She has gotten James and Sirius into more detentions than Peter can possibly count, but it has to be said, she always manages to forget to include Peter and Remus when she reports her findings to McGonagall or Dumbledore. He thinks that this is very nice of her, because Remus and Peter are often just as guilty of messing about as Sirius and James are. Maybe she just bears a grudge because Sirius and James used to pick on everybody. Before the whole Snape incident, of course.

Peter doesn't like Snape very much, he doesn't wash himself.

He also doesn't like being under the invisibility cloak without James, otherwise he is always afraid that he will get caught. Sirius can make _such_ a racket and James is the only person who can keep him under control.

"Don't you think that Prongs should bother to fucking show up!? I swear, he better have a good reason to-"

"Why don't we just go without him?"

"Because he has the fucking map, idiot."

"Oh."

He shuts up. It's best just to leave Sirius alone when he gets angry, lest he find himself on the receiving end of a well placed hex. Sirius is a really, really nice person, but when he gets into a temper he can be so unreasonable, and because he'd never dream of picking a fight with his beloved James, and the eternally composed Remus insists upon not being fought with, it is always Peter who is forced to bear the brunt of his annoyance. It's not particularly fair, but Sirius is _always_ apologetic afterwards and Peter supposes that he can be really annoying at times. And it could always be worse.

"Fucking, bloody wanker of a supposed best mate he is!"

"Ssh!"

His second attempt to silence Sirius earns him a dead arm, but it was necessary, the portrait hole is opening. So Sirius hushes, just in case somebody besides James might have been talking a walk tonight. As it turns out, it's Lily Evans. So she could have caught them!

She brushes something away from her cheek. Was she crying? That's impossible, Peter has never seen Lily cry before, and he has seen even Sirius cry. Not that he'd ever tell anybody that.

"I didn't forget the sodding password, Potter, I just didn't want to wake up the Fat Lady."

"Oh right, and you figured that because she already hates me, you'd wait until I came to do it? That's really considerate of you."

Sure enough, the voice is followed by the man himself. Peter is actually about to step forward and greet him when he feels a hand on his arm. Sirius. Oh yeah, invisibility cloak.

James steps into the common room looking, Peter notes, rather pissed off. His hands are balled into fists, a sure sign that he really wants to hit something (luckily for Peter, James prefers to take his anger out on inanimate objects). Lily either doesn't notice, or doesn't care. Or maybe she does, and she's trying to anger him further. Peter has never been able to fathom why James is so mean to her when it is obvious that he adores her so much. Lily is sweet and pretty and she and James are well suited, she would surely like James if he was nicer to her, but he isn't. He just carries on being mean. This makes no sense to Peter, and Peter is considered to be the stupid one!

"Well, yes Potter! Why should she bear a grudge against me when you're the one who annoys her?"

"I never do anything to annoy her! She's just pissed off all the time. It's the menopause, or whatever they call it. She's insane!"

"Can you really blame her? How would you feel if everyone went around calling you the, the, the Fat Gryffindor, all the time?" she argues triumphantly.

James' expression changes from irritation to mirth, and he is spluttering with laughter.

"Oh Evans," he says, in between gasps. "You are one in a fucking million."

"Laughing at my stutter again, are you?" Lily has turned red with the anger. James stops laughing. Why, Peter thinks, do women always take things the wrong way? James was merely complimenting her humor, even Peter can see that.

"What? No!"

"You are such a bollox, Potter."

"I'm not laughing at your stutter!" James cries exasperatedly.

"He's not laughing at your stutter, you dozy cow!" Sirius hisses.

"Right. Whatever," she says, marching over to her favorite old armchair. James lets out a sigh and runs a hand through his hair, looking miserable.

"Lily-"

"Save it, and don't call me Lily!" She shouts at him before he can finish.

"I give up, I'm going to bed."

"Good, it'll save me having to look at you."

"Fine. I'll not sicken you any longer," says James, shoving a chair that he can't be bothered to walk around.

"Thank you."

"You're fucking welcome!"

Peter doesn't watch James as he crosses the room; he is busy watching Lily, who has assumed a kneeling position on her chair to watch James over the back of it. She looks like she is going to say something, but she thinks the better of it and, curling both arms around a cushion, buries her head in it instead. As the sound of James' pounding footsteps fade away, she lets out a low, muffled moan.

"Peter!" Sirius whispers urgently.

"What?"

"Turn into a rat."

"Why?"

"Turn into a rat, I'm going upstairs to get Prongs."

"Why do I have to transform?"

"You can scare Evans and she'll go upstairs, or just-" he stops talking abruptly as Lily lets out a small sniff. Is she crying? "Just watch her until she leaves, and then come up when she's gone. I want to talk to Prongs alone."

Not seeing the point in arguing, he nods mutely.

"Go!" Sirius pushes him a little.

So he transforms, feeling the familiar sensation of being pushed into a very small, tight hole, followed by a wave of relief. From the ground, he can see Sirius's feet as he tiptoes towards the stairs. He hesitates for a moment; he would rather follow Sirius upstairs than to stay down here with a girl who, for all he knows, could be sobbing hysterically, but Sirius will send him down again. He scurries across the well trodden carpet until he is right in front of Lily, who during the course of his conversation with Sirius, reassumed her seated position. Her head is still buried in the depths of the poor old cushion, who probably never did anything in his cushiony life to deserve being soaked by frenzied-girl tears.

He lets out a squeak and scratches around a bit, trying to get her attention. The sooner she notices him, the sooner the common room will be empty and the sooner he can go upstairs to his friends. She doesn't respond, and the more impatient he gets, the louder he becomes. Finally, after what seems an age, he hears a small gasp.

"Hello?"

Her seat creaks as she leans forward. Peter freezes, gazing up at her with his beady little eyes, trying to make himself look as intimidating as possible, a hard task when one is squaring up against Lily Evans, even if he is a rat.

She blinks. As Peter suspected, she is crying, or was. There are no tears now, just puffy red eyes and tearstained cheeks.

"Oh," she says. "Hello."

Shit, Peter thinks, she's not frightened. He'll have to stay down and wait until Lily either leaves or falls asleep. And what if she doesn't? What if she stays awake, crying all night? Will Sirius and James leave without him? Will they go at all? What will Remus think tomorrow?

"Did I startle you?" says Lily, still looking at him. That _does_ startle him. Not only is Lily completely unafraid of him, she's talking to him too. He wonders if there's any chance that she knows that Peter is Peter, and not a rodent.

"I don't think I did, or you would have run away," she continues softly. "What are you doing out here, and all alone too?"

She has a point, Peter thinks, why is he out here all alone?

"Hunting for food, are you? Or are you out here to think about things?"

He scratches at the carpet, because looking into her huge, emerald eyes is kind of unnerving. Lily has those probing, searching eyes. Peter doesn't think that he could ever look into them and lie.

"I'm going to go with thinking, because that's what I'm doing. So now I'm not alone in my musings!" She smiles, and shifts a bit in her seat. "Now, what's your name, hmm? I don't know if you're a girl or boy rat."

That would just sum up Peter's life, if he couldn't even be masculine as a rat. He scratches furiously at the ruby carpet.

"I'm going to go with boy."

He stops.

"Yes, yes, you're a boy- no, a man rat. You're name is Claude, you're a French rat, a heartbreaker, who has all of the lady rats at his claws."

Peter nods fervently, or as fervently as he can, being a rat. This is the most he has been complimented in a long time. He pushes away his mild irritation at this thought.

"But I wonder, are you a heartbreaker or not? Maybe there's only one special rat for you. A Marie or a Brigette, perhaps?"

He squeaks again.

"Yes, I'm going to go with monogamous," she sniffs. "You know, if that's true, you're a lucky rat, to have someone whom you love and who loves you. It's a nice thing to have."

Her lower lip wobbles and Peter is sure that she is going to cry again.

"Can I ask you a question, Claude?" She laughs to herself and rolls her eyes. "Disregarding the fact that I'm a human and you have no idea what I'm saying, and the fact that you're probably not a French rat, you may be female, and you probably don't love anyone. Come to think of it, that actually makes my question quite pointless. Unless you consider it from a ratty point of view, I suppose."

She pauses, looking down at her fingernails. Curious, Peter stares and stares at her, wondering what on earth she is going to ask him. In all his life, he has never seen Lily like this, she always came across as somebody who didn't need any help, and now she is seeking advice from a rat! Wait until he tells James… although maybe he shouldn't. If he tells James that Lily is upset, James will inevitably try to discover the root of her problem. Or he'll get all wounded and morose. Maybe he shouldn't tell anyone at all.

"What would you do if," she sighs. Rubbing her eyes, she continues. "I'm sorry, I've never said this out loud before, it makes it kind of final." She takes a deep breath.

So does Peter.

"You see, I know this- rat," she begins tentatively. "Her name is, well, it's Lily. And she's dating this other rat, named Stephen. And she really does love Stephen, she does, don't think for a second that she doesn't, but she," her shoulders sag. "She doesn't love him like, like, like a rat, or a person, should love her boyfriend. She thinks of him as a, as a friend, really."

Peter is not surprised, not even for a second. He never thought that Stephen Collins and Lily Evans looked right together, and he always thought that Lily was too good for him, too. Of course, Peter is a bit biased, because James is one of his best friends and he really adores Lily, so in Peter's opinion, James is who she should be dating. If anybody on earth deserves Lily, that person is James, he thinks.

"Well, you know, she was thinking that she could just stay with Stephen, because he's a lovely boyfriend and she would be happy, enough, with him. But erm, the thing is, I'm, she's kind of, she thinks, maybe, definitely in love with another rat."

Now, this is news to Peter! Lily Evans is in love with some other bloke? As much as he doesn't see her with Collins, he never thought that she had feeling for anyone else. Certainly not anyone Peter has ever witnessed her talking to. Actually, Peter doesn't remember Lily dating anybody before Stephen Collins, she always said that she couldn't be bothered, even though she has had and still does have a fair amount of willing suitors.

"I mean, she's not sure. Well, she is. She doesn't love him, you know, the, the kind of love that, well, you know, when you've been with somebody for a long time and you know everything about that person, that kind of love? She doesn't love him like that, but she has this feeling that she could. It's more of a," She wrings her hands. "Not passionate, but kind of like that, it's just…odd. It's the strongest feeling she has ever had for somebody, and the matter is made entirely worse by the fact that she pretends to hate him. And that he used to really like her and now she's not sure if he does. So, so, she's just torn. She doesn't know whether to stay with Stephen, because if she leaves him he'll be hurt and he really does represent stability, or, well, you know."

Peter, having never been in that situation, doesn't know, but he can see her problem. It's not a nice one, but it's also one that Peter doesn't think he'd mind being in the middle of. No girl has ever shown any interest in him, at all. If they have, he hasn't noticed. A lot of them, most of them are into Sirius, probably because he's so _handsome_. The only problem is, Sirius finds it hysterical every time some poor girl fancies him or any of his friends.

He remembers Belinda Burgess, a girl whom he had a huge crush on for more than a year before he found out from a laughing, snickering Sirius, that she was completely enamoured with Remus.

Girls like Remus too, he thinks. Not the same type of girls who are hell bent on Sirius, but Remus still has his fair share of admirers, Peter would imagine. So does James, actually. James attracts attention because he's such an exhibitionist, and he's very charming and friendly too. Not that he cares about dating.

It's ironic, Peter thinks, none of his friends want to date anybody, and they're the ones who get all the attention. Nobody likes Peter because everybody thinks that he's the silly, plodding bloke in the corner. Sometimes, when he's in a really bad mood, he wonders why his friends attract so much interest from girls, they're the ones with all of the fucked up problems, not him. His friends comprise of a werewolf, a narcissistic loner and Lily Evans's personal stalker. Where does the appeal lie? What's so wrong with Peter?

He feels immediately guilty, and forces himself to think of something else. Lily, he was talking to Lily. Speaking of the girl, she hasn't talked in a few minutes. Peter gives another small squeak to startle her.

"Oh, I got lost for a moment there."

She wipes her eyes.

"I was thinking, maybe she should break up with Stephen and just leave it at that? Maybe she needs a break? But that would be stupid, because once she's free, I don't think that I'll, she'll be able to prevent herself from acting on impulse. I mean, I always think that I'm perfectly in control of myself, but whenever I see Potter it's like, all of my control is gone and the only thing that stops me is the thought of my boyfriend, because I could never bear to hurt him. And I just don't know. I can't even verbalise everything. It's all really messed up."

She sniffs again, wiping ferociously at her tears as if they are offensive.

"And of course, I was talking about myself the entire time. I think even you knew that, and you're a rat, who can't make sense of anything I say."

To say that Peter is shocked would not even be scratching the surface of how he's feeling. James? Lily is in love with James? There's no way, she must have been talking about someone else.

Even as he thinks that, his mind dismisses it. There are no other Potters in the school, Lily said that she pretends to hate him, and everybody in Hogwarts is certain that Lily hates James. Peter was, and he's sure that Remus and Sirius were too. James was definitely under the impression that she despised him.

James, what will James make of all this?

"Lily?"

Both Lily and Peter jump out of their skins at the sound of the voice. Peter doesn't waste a second in running for the boys' staircase. As he reaches it, he sees that Lily's friend Miranda has come downstairs, probably worried when she woke up and saw that Lily hadn't come up to bed. Squealing and slipping, he clambers up the staircase until he's nearly at the top, transforming as he does so. The sound of voices reaches his rapidly expanding ears. James and Sirius obviously haven't left the room under the cloak's cover. He stops for a moment, waiting until the bursting sensation of becoming human again has subsided, then shoves the door open.

"I need to talk to-"

He doesn't get any further. Sirius catches the door before he can open it and holds it half-closed.

"I heard you come up, has she left?"

"I need to talk to James," Peter wheezes, pushing on the door, but Sirius is holding it fast. There is a creaking sound from behind him and Peter tries to see, but Sirius just moves his head.

"He'll be out in a minute. Has she left yet?"

"No, she hasn't, I need to talk to-"

"Why are you up here if she hasn't left!? I told you to stay and watch her," he hisses, as though he doesn't want James to hear.

"I'm up here," Peter replies, gathering his breath back. "Because I need to tell James what I heard. About Lily, I think he needs to know, know-" he stops, clutching the stitch in his side. Sirius's eyes narrow and he slips out of the door.

"What do you mean, what you've heard?" He shuts the door fully behind him as he steps out onto the staircase.

"Lily was talking to, to," he pauses, he doesn't want to say that she was talking to Wormtail. "Miranda Binkley. And she said," he wheezes again. "She said that she loves James."

Instead of the happy reaction he expected, Sirius looks angry. Really angry. In fact, he appears somewhat terrifying. He lowers his voice so much that Peter has to lean in to hear him.

"Don't tell him," he says.

"What?!"

"Don't tell him," Sirius growls, very, very urgently. "I've just spent the past half hour talking to him about her. He's finally getting over her, if you tell him this now, it'll fuck everything up. I'm tired of that stupid girl making him miserable, ok? If they start going out she'll screw him over, like she always does."

"But-"

"I mean it, Wormtail. I want you to go in there and pretend like nothing happened. Go in and tell him that she was badmouthing him to Miranda."

"Wouldn't it be better if-" he begins, growing weary of being interrupted, but Sirius cuts him off again.

"You didn't hear him talking to me about her, she's really hurt him and he's had it. He wants nothing to do with her and you'll fuck things up if you tell him."

Why, Peter wonders, if James told Sirius all of this, is he talking so very quietly? The only person in danger of hearing them is James.

"I thought that-"

"You thought nothing. Don't tell him, ok?" At the dubious look on Peter's face, Sirius's expression softens. "I know you want what's best for James, well so do I, and it will only make him miserable. Promise you won't tell."

He deliberates this for a while. Sirius, James's best friend, knows James inside and out, and knows what's best for him. It was probably a bit silly of Peter to consider telling James before consulting with Sirius first. He doesn't want to cause Prongs any stress, who is he to assume that James would want to be with Lily? He never talks about her with Peter.

After several seconds, Peter nods. "I won't."

"Thank Merlin," Sirius breathes, a smirk appearing upon his face, one which he doesn't bother trying to hide. "Right, we'll do this properly. You go in to James and tell him what I've told you to say. I'll go down and check that Lily is gone. If she isn't, I'll try to get rid of her and we'll leave then, ok?"

"Yeah," Peter says, not wanting to upset Sirius.

"James will thank you for this, Peter."

"I hope so."

"He will, I promise. You're a real mate." He squeezes past Peter and starts down the stairs. "See you in a minute."

Feeling completely stupid, Peter opens the door to find James sitting at the window, staring at his reflection and ruffling his hair feverishly. His trunk is overturned on the floor, clothes and books and empty sweet wrappers spilling out of it. There's an open bottle of Butterbeer beside it. Peter guesses that the trunk might have been kicked over in a fit of anger.

"It looks wrong," says James.

"Yeah, it- What?"

"My hair, it looks wrong." He flicks his fringe so that it falls behind his glasses, over his hazel eyes. "Don't you think?"

"Erm, no, no not really. It looks the same as it always does."

"No, there's something off," he starts examining random clumps of hair and trying to make them stand out more. He still hasn't turned around to greet Peter and Peter can't see his face properly in the window, just the reflection of his glasses.

"Has she gone yet?" he asks casually.

"What, Lily?"

"Yeah, Evans."

"Not yet."

"Merlin, she's taking her time, isn't she? Bloody woman, always pissing me off," he mutters. "There, got it."

"Well I suppose she wouldn't have taken so long, except she was talking to her friend Miranda," Peter continues, in monotone.

"Oh yeah?" James stops messing about with his hair and turns his seat around. He leans his chair back on two legs and Peter notices that his eyes are, in spite of their barrier of hair, plainly very red. "Complaining about me again, was she?"

"She mentioned you quite a lot, yeah," says Peter, feeling guilty even as the words leave his lips.

"What did she say, then?" he asks, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. His voice is lacking all of its usual bounce and zing, he just sounds hollow. He doesn't sound like, as Sirius said, he's over her; he doesn't look like he's over her. He looks depressed.

It would be better not to upset him any longer, Sirius is right.

Peter opens his mouth, ready to tell James what Sirius told him to.

He thinks of Lily, of her tearstained cheeks and her big, penetrating eyes. He thinks of the countless times that James has valiantly tried to disguise his hurt and his sadness every time Lily turns him down or insults him. He thinks of how James' eyes light up whenever she walks into the room. He thinks of just how well suited he has always thought they would be.

He thinks of Sirius's smirk before he descended the stairs. He looks at James now, his eyes as hopeful as they always are whenever anybody brings up the subject of Lily Evans, and it occurs to him that Sirius never wants to talk about Lily. He thinks back to sixth year, when Sirius had nearly been responsible for the death of Severus Snape, when James and Sirius were fighting. He remembers Sirius's tears, crying as he told Peter how James was his only family, how he couldn't get by without him, how he could never bear to lose him.

It suddenly all makes sense to Peter.

He wonders what he was so frightened of.

He wonders if it is worth losing the trust of one friend if it makes another happy.

"Well, _did_ she say anything?"

Peter takes a deep breath. Glancing behind him, he takes a step back and gently shuts the door.

"Yes, she did."

Sirius is going to kill him for this, Peter knows, but it's about time that he stood up for himself, did something brave, for a change. One look at his friend's dismal face, and he knows that he is doing the right thing. If Peter doesn't interfere, who else will?

He _has_ to say something.


End file.
